


Love, Misunderstood

by Cavalierious



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Fake Dating, M/M, Modern AU, Strangers to Lovers, SylvixGiftExchange2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:55:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28183527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cavalierious/pseuds/Cavalierious
Summary: So, here’s the thing: Felix doesn’t date anyone that isn’t his sabre.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 16
Kudos: 131
Collections: Sylvix Gift Exchange 2020





	Love, Misunderstood

**Author's Note:**

  * For [butterflyknifetricks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/butterflyknifetricks/gifts).



> This was written for butterflyknifetricks for the Sylvix Secret Santa exchange!I had a lot of fun writing this trope because I've never tried it out before.
> 
> Edit: [SATO SURPRISED ME WITH ART FOR THIS??!?!?!?](https://twitter.com/satodee1/status/1345539737759563777) Please check it out, it actually made me shed a tear of happiness.

_ Let go the fear of falling in love. _

#

So, here’s the thing: Felix doesn’t date anyone that isn’t his sabre.

One, there isn’t time. By day he’s almost a professional athlete with dozens of fencing titles to his name, and by night he’s a business student double majoring in Marketing and Finance. His days are full of workouts and conditioning, a carefully maintained diet, and when the sport isn’t on his mind, his academics are. 

Two, there’s no interest. None. Whatsoever. Felix has never once looked at another person and thought,  _ Yes, I would like that one. _

Which brings him to his current problem: there’s an annoyance in his face that some might think is pretty if they liked overly bleached hair and heavily lacquered nails. Gum pops in her mouth. She twirls a long tendril of hair around a finger like the love interest from a nineties sitcom. 

Felix doesn’t just hate; he loathes and he despises. Less so the girl and more so at being perceived as a romantic option. He feels as though he does a pretty good job selling the fact that he’s entirely off of the market, even going as far as snarling at hopefuls. Apparently, some people are just infuriatingly stubborn.

Or maybe just oblivious. Felix is starting to lean towards the latter, watching carefully as the girl stares back at him, dreamily. 

“So, like,” she says, punctuating the words with a giggle, “I’m a big fan. Of you and you know, your fencing.” 

Felix is a hundred percent sure that she has no idea what she’s talking about. What he says instead is, “I’m studying.” Neat and simple, and not even mean. Hopefully enough to fend her off. He’s almost proud of himself. 

She blinks at him like she’s trying and failing to process what he’s just said. “So, that bout last weekend,” says the girl, relentless in her pursuit. “You really honed in the touches, winning before the time limit.”

This surprises him; maybe his earlier assessment is incorrect and she’s honestly a fencing fan. Felix meets her gaze and she stares back, smacking her gum, hair still wrapped around her finger, and eyes glinting. 

Right, no, she’d just done her research. 

“Thank you,” says Felix because he’s not entirely an asshole. “But as I said, I’m studying, so if you would--”

“It was truly riveting,” continues the girl, clasping her hands before her. “Your form is just  _ exquisite.” _ She says the word like he’s a prized pig. 

Felix is losing his patience, his fingers tightening around his pencil and squeezing tighter and tighter. It might snap under his grip. It’s happened before.

“Look,” says Felix, his tone hardening just a modicum, “I appreciate--”

“So, how about grabbing a bite to eat together?” asks the girl, batting her eyes at him in an exaggerated flourish. 

Felix opens his mouth to say something rather nasty, but he’s interrupted by someone dropping into the chair next to him.  _ “Darling.” _ An arm finds its way slung around his shoulder and Felix goes rigid. “I’m sorry that I’m late; got stuck in traffic. You know what rush hour is like.”

It takes everything for Felix to not grab the man’s arm and break his wrist. 

Before he can do so though, the man looks to the girl and says, “A bite to eat? All of us? Group dates are always fun.”

The girl, to her credit, looks about as flabbergasted as Felix feels. “Um--”

“Unless you meant alone with my boyfriend?”

Felix immediately starts, turning to look at him incredulously.  _ “Boyfriend--” _

“My mistake,” the girl apologizes immediately. “I didn’t, um, realize that you… Anyway, thank you for the chat!” And with a wave, the bleached-blonde bimbo takes her leave. 

Felix whirls onto the man next to him, immediately shrugging out of his grasp. “What do you think you’re doing?”

The man is lightly tanned, cheeks dusted with a spattering of warm freckles. His hair is auburn and unruly, curling wildly around his forehead and ears. His smile is crooked, a dimple forming at the left corner of his mouth. Handsome, if Felix likes people. He doesn’t, he reminds himself.

“Saving you,” the man says. “Really, she just wouldn’t let you go. It’s astonishing really, I could feel the  _ leave me the fuck alone _ vibes radiating off of you from across the shop.”

Felix blinks at that. “I didn’t need help.”

“I think that you did.”

“I didn’t,” repeats Felix, unable to let go of his stubborn need to get the last word in. Glenn used to say that it was the best and worst part of him.

“You could have just told her no.” The man pauses, thumbing at his chin as though he’s amused. “You don’t seem the type to be nice and gently let someone down.”

Felix isn’t; he’s the type to throw books at people instead, and be brutally blunt about what he does and doesn’t want. “I was distracted,” he finally says, “I’m studying for an exam and she just caught me off guard. I promise you, had I been on my game I would have done far worse.”

The other man cocks his head to the side, watching him, and Felix already hates the calculating gaze. “You really go all in, don’t you?” he asks. “Just no fucks given as to what people think about you?”

“I’m not here to date, I’m here to go to school.”

“How boring,” says the man. 

“I like boring,” says Felix. 

There’s a beat and then, “I’m Sylvain.” Sylvain holds his hand out for a shake. Felix stares at it as though it might bite him, but Sylvain waits patiently. “You owe me at least yours.”

There isn’t a chance in hell that this man doesn’t know who Felix is; his face is plastered across every Garreg Mach University billboard this side of Fodlan. Still, Felix has been raised with manners and he can hear Glenn rolling over in his grave.

Felix hates manners but sucks it up. 

“Felix,” he says finally, still ignoring Sylvain’s hand. “Thank you for the help, but I don’t need it. Now leave me alone. I don’t have time to entertain jockstraps like yourself.”

Sylvain eventually puts his hand down and watches Felix for a long moment. Felix doesn’t like the slightly amused grin that seems permanently attached to his face. “Got it,” says Sylvain eventually. He stands and throws his bag back over his shoulder. “Then this  _ jockstrap  _ will take his leave.”

Felix almost feels bad, prompting him to say, “My appreciation is honest. If you hadn’t stepped in I might’ve snapped the girl’s neck instead.” He expects him to run off at such vivid imagery, like so many do. 

But instead, Sylvain just throws his head back and laughs, before leaving him be. 

#

“Do you like Adrestian Barbecue?” 

This one cuter than the last, pert little nose and wavy locks of brown framing her face nicely. Felix still isn’t remotely interested. “I’m studying,” he says, trying his best to sound at least polite. He’s not very good at it, but the woman pays it no mind. 

“This’ll only take a moment,” she says. “I’m wondering if you’d like to go get lunch or something? There’s a great new place that’s just opened up off of Twenty-Fourth Street, and--”

“Babe,” someone cuts in, leaning over Felix’s shoulder, their cheeks barely inches from each other.  _ Sylvain,  _ Felix’s mind supplies before being annoyed that he’d remembered. Felix hadn’t seen him in the shop for a few weeks. Sylvain to his credit doesn’t sling his arm around and immediately drop into the chair without permission, he just hovers next to him. Waiting. 

A slight improvement.

“Sylvain,” says Felix. Then pauses, unsure how to continue. He swallows and then, “You’re late.”

Sylvain chuckles. “Traffic.”

Felix huffs, a little emboldened. “That’s the excuse you used last time.”

“And it’s still true,” says Sylvain. 

“Um,” says the woman who’s been interrupted. “I was trying to ask--”

“My boyfriend to lunch,” cuts in Sylvain. “Yes, I saw that. I can barely get him to go out with me, what makes you think that he’d have a go with you?”

Felix’s eyes nearly bulge at the aggressive raking. Sylvain seemed like a nice man the last they met, but perhaps Felix has underestimated him. It sounds like a jab straight from Felix’s book. 

The woman’s mouth falls open and she gawks but quickly recovers. “Right,” she says. “My apologies, I’d thought-- Never mind that. Have a wonderful day Mr. Fraldarius.” 

Felix cringes as she turns and walks away. 

“Mr. Fraldarius,” drawls Sylvain, falling into the chair next to him. “I really do have a habit of coming to rescue you.”

“I didn’t need to be rescued,” says Felix, acerbically. “It isn’t my fault that you insist on butting in where you aren’t wanted.”

“So, you wanted to go grab lunch with her?”

Felix closes his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose, and lets out a frustrated grunt. “Absolutely not.” Sylvain doesn’t say anything, just watches him with unwavering patience. Eventually, Felix says, “Look, I appreciate your willingness to help, but--”

“You know, I could just pretend to be your boyfriend and they’d leave you alone for good.”

Felix blinks and then he scowls. “What?”

Sylvain shrugs, noncommittal. “You study here nearly every day. I study here too. I finally stepped in because you seem to get attention all of the time and it does nothing but annoy you. Seriously, people have no boundaries.”

Felix wants to tell Sylvain that he has no boundaries either, but decides not to fuel the fire. Instead, he says, “There’s no reason for you to help me, you would gain nothing from it.”

“Some peace and quiet. Do you know how hard it is to focus on schoolwork here when women  _ and _ men are trying to approach you? I come here for the quiet, not to watch the latest episode of  _ Blind Date.” _

Sylvain has a point; the people who approach him tend to be rather loud about it. Felix thinks about the proposition for a moment. “No,” he finally says. “You don’t have to study here. Go elsewhere.”

“It’s preferable to my dorm,” says Sylvain, not bothering to elaborate. “And, I think that’s why you study here as well. You hate people and would do anything to avoid them entirely. Even if it means studying in public.”

Felix cringes because Sylvain’s nailed it on the head; the general public is less invasive than Ashe is. His roommate is nice but needlessly curious. “I don’t need your help.”

Sylvain opens his mouth to answer but stops when the barista comes by their table. “Felix,” he says, smiling kindly. “I’ve brought you a refill, yeah?” He drops a take-out cup to the table. “Just let me know if you want more.”

Felix nods, his lips quirking the slightest bit. The boy has always been nice to him and unfussy. “Thank you,” says Felix, genuinely.

The barista leaves and as Felix reaches for the cup, Sylvain raises his eyebrows. Felix’s mood immediately sours. “What?” snaps Felix acerbically. 

Sylvain points to the cardboard sleeve around the cup. Felix turns it around to find the barista’s name and number written in curling script. “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” says Felix. But, at least the barista has the decency not to accost him publicly. Felix rubs at his forehead. 

“Say that I take you up on your offer,” starts Felix, already wanting to pull them back, “what are you expecting in return?”

“Nothing,” says Sylvain. Felix meets his eyes, narrowing his gaze as he watches him carefully. “Honestly,” continues Sylvain under the scrutiny. “I also like to study in peace, but I don’t like to sit at tables alone. I work better when there’s someone else there, even if it’s not to talk.”

“That’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard,” says Felix. 

“So is every person on this campus thirsting after your mangy ass. It’s a mystery to me.” Sylvain bites back just as hard as Felix, it seems. Felix respects that, if only slightly. 

“Fine,” says Felix. “But only because I’ve got tests coming up and I’m tired of being bothered.” 

“It’s a deal then,” says Sylvain. “We study and pretend to be dating, reaping the benefits of a quiet and quaint coffee shop.”

“You’ll have to be convincing,” says Felix. 

“So far, it’s worked.” 

Sylvain holds his hand out to shake on the deal and Felix looks at it warily. Then, with a resigned sigh, he takes it. Sylvain’s hand is wide and warm, and it makes Felix want to pull away. He hates closeness and doesn’t do well with physical contact. When they part, Sylvain smiles and then finally drops his book bag from his shoulders, settling in. 

Felix hopes to the Goddess above that he’s not making a mistake. 

#

Felix wants to hate Sylvain on mere principle, but they fall into an easy companionship. Felix hates it,  _ hates _ that he doesn’t dislike Sylvain. But, Felix doesn’t quite like him either, and it’s the last thread of hope that he hangs on to. 

A week into the charade, Felix is still stunned by the fact that Sylvain actually studies. He expects Sylvain to joke or flirt incessantly. He hasn’t; Sylvain’s quiet when they sit at their table in the corner of the coffee shop, nose-deep in a math text. 

Felix’s gaze narrows slightly when he reads the title. “You’re taking Calculus III?”

“No,” says Sylvain, eyes not leaving his book. He flips a page, looking bored. “It’s a prerequisite, so I’ve already taken it, but sometimes I have to revisit.”

“Already taken it?” Sylvain taps another textbook to the side and Felix’s eyes widened. “Ordinary and Partial Differential Mathematics?” Felix can not for the life of him, think of a degree that would require a course like this.

Sylvain hums. “Yeah, it’s my required math for this semester.”

“For a jockstrap like yourself?” The nickname has stuck and so far, Sylvain hasn’t stopped Felix from using it. 

Finally, Sylvain looks up, eyes crinkling in amusement. “I like math,” he says simply, “and I’m good at it. It’s an easy course for me.”

Felix isn’t sure what’s easy about math that he doesn’t even grasp the purpose of, but Sylvain’s only proven himself to be a weird man at his core. Sylvain looks at Felix’s book in return. 

“Statistics,” says Sylvain. Felix has a distinct impression that he’s not remotely impressed. 

“A requirement,” says Felix. “If I had a choice, I wouldn’t take math at all. But it’s part of a Business degree.”

“Business.” Sylvain snorts. “What a boring degree. Aren’t you here for fencing?”

“On a fencing scholarship, yes. There’s no future in a sport, though.” Felix narrows his eyes at him. “Something that you should probably learn.”

Sylvain’s got the build of a footballer, though, so Felix knows that he’s likely on that track. But, Sylvain doesn’t really talk about himself much, let alone his schooling. He has a tendency to watch people carefully with a gaze that’s far too knowing. 

Felix never likes that look, like Sylvain’s mind is far away and thinking. A thinking Sylvain is likely a dangerous Sylvain. It’s always the ones you least suspect. Glenn would have been best friends with this dolt.

“What?” says Felix, annoyed. 

“Nothing,” says Sylvain, turning back to his textbook. 

Felix frowns but doesn’t push to ask more. 

As the weeks pass, things shift from a tentative, peaceful study, into an actual friendship. Felix wants to hate it; a large part of him wants to loathe it because he doesn’t like people, nor does he like it when people admire him in return.

But, Felix has learned in their brief time together that it’s not all bad. Not every person who is friendly with you wants something in return. Being a Fraldarius has severely skewed the way that he views the general public, but Sylvain seems to have no idea what his roots are, thank the Goddess. 

It’s led to a low-key relationship, full of quiet jokes and genuine care. Felix grudgingly accepts it. 

Like always, Felix finds Sylvain holding their table in the corner, a cup of coffee already ordered and waiting for him. Bernadetta’s handmade mugs might be odd and a little bizarre, but they serve drinks all the same, even if it loses its heat more quickly. 

Sylvain once berated him for his wasteful use of to-go cups and Felix relented without much of a fight. Much to his irritation.

“One large red-eye, black as your soul,” says Sylvain, pushing the cup towards Felix. “I think he threw in an extra shot this time.” 

Felix grunts, noncommittally, drops his bag to the ground and slumps into his chair. The mug is hot to the touch, so it must be fresh, and Felix leans over to inhale deeply. Sylvain makes a gagging sound which causes Felix to glare at him. 

“No judgment,” says Sylvain. Then he pauses. “Actually, a lot of judgment because only stone-cold dicks can drink that dredge--”

“Go back to the field,” snaps Felix, before taking a sip. It’s dark and bitter as it burns through his veins. Perfection, really. Sylvain just has bad taste.

“Always with the jock references,” says Sylvain. “At least you haven’t called me jockstrap yet.”

“Apt name for someone like yourself.”

Sylvian blinks. “What does that even  _ mean?” _

Felix huffs. “An athlete, you dolt.” He takes another sip. “You make fun of my sport enough that it's only appropriate that I do the same.”

Sylvain is quiet for a long moment and then he bursts out laughing. “Wait, wait,” he starts. “You think I’m an athlete? Why?”

“You're built like a footballer,” says Felix. “Infuriatingly tall and broad.”

“Not to say that jocks are dumb, or anything, but with my courseload what makes you think that I even have time to think about playing a sport?”

Felix thinks for a long moment, coming to realize that even with their burgeoning friendship, he knows next to nothing about Sylvain. He’s easy to get along with, they’ve fallen into an easy routine and Felix even finds that studying flies by with little to no thought by his side. Something about Sylvain’s quiet presence in the coffee shop makes it easier to focus. 

Still. 

“Wait, you don’t?” asks Felix. “Why didn’t you ever say--”

“I thought that you were just insulting me, I didn’t think that you actually thought that I--” Sylvain stops, laughing again. “I’m sorry, this is hilarious. It shows just how bad you are with people. Pure comedic gold.”

“You said you were on scholarship!”

At that, Sylvain raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, an academic one. Astronomy and Astrophysics.”

_ “Astrophysics?” _ blurts Felix incredulously. 

In retrospect, it’s painfully obvious, he thinks. Suddenly, the textbooks of differential calculus and other various maths and sciences he can’t pronounce make a hell of a lot more sense. He reaches out, lifting the book that Sylvain’s currently working from, eyeballing the title. 

“Steller, Galactic and Extragalactic Astronomy,” Felix reads. Then he moves to the next. “Statistical Quantum Mechanics.” Felix meets Sylvain’s sheepish gaze. “You aren’t joking, are you?”

“I’ve wanted to understand the planets ever since I saw Star Trek as a kid--”

“Are you really basing your degree on a television show that you watched growing up? One that isn’t even that good?”

Sylvain’s mouth dropped open. “Oh, you did not just disrespect the  _ best _ television show to ever have been created.”

“I’m not having this conversation,” says Felix. “I have an essay for Business Statistics, and it’s going to be hard enough to focus knowing that you’re doing experimental math over there.”

“Theoretical math,” says Sylvain, coyly correcting him.

“Whatever,” hisses Felix. “Honestly, being a footballer would be less annoying.”

Sylvain frowns slightly. “Than being smart?”

“What?” Felix scowls. “No, that isn’t what I meant. I don’t give a rat’s ass how smart you are, but really, Sylvain--  _ Star Trek?” _

Sylvain lets out a long breath and Felix realizes that he must be used to being judged. Sylvain doesn’t have the typical look of a scientist when you think about it. He’s handsome and well built, looking like he spends more time on a beach than a mechanics lab. 

Felix has the decency to be at least a little bit embarrassed for assuming, not that he’d publicly admit to it. 

“Look, just go back to your book,” says Felix. “I’ll go back to mine. And if I have any math questions, I’m going to expect your help.”

At that, Sylvain lets out a little chuckle, different from his usual boisterous laugh. It takes Felix a moment to realize that it’s a genuine moment from Sylvain, one where he’s let down all those walls he’s carefully put up. 

It seems that he’s even more guarded than Felix is, something of mild interest. If Felix took an interest in things. He doesn’t, he thinks, but it’s more like he’s trying to convince himself. 

“Alright,” says Sylvain. “But I don’t know how much help I’ll be. Simple math confuses me more than this does.”

What a ridiculous thing to say, but it’s not as annoying as the way that Felix’s mouth twitches into a near smile. 

#

In the aftermath of Felix’s assumed snafu, Sylvain makes irritating strides to get to know Felix better. Irritating, because Felix has come to learn that he likes spending time with the genius of a chump, be it lunches between classes, or dinner after their study session. A variety of low-commitment activities that are usually full of small talk that Felix is angered he doesn’t hate. 

“Just to be more convincing,” said Sylvain, doing most of the talking like always. Felix was inclined to agree, considering that Annette told him that Sylvain wasn’t his type and the idea of the two of them together seemed frankly,  _ odd. _

“I don’t get what the issue is,” says Annette, one day that seems like eons after Felix struck his deal with Sylvain. It’s past winter holiday and creeping into the spring, warm enough to catch a snack at the crepe stand after Annette’s yoga class. “Are you bothered that you like to spend time with him?”

“No, that’s not--” Felix pauses. “I’m not good at making friends.”

“We’re friends,” says Annette, shoving a mouthful of crepe into her mouth. 

Felix wants to remind her that they met after she asked him to dinner, and it was the one time he’d said yes. It lasted about thirty minutes before they both decided dinner was a bust and went bowling instead. Annette kicked his ass, looked pretty while doing it and he’d felt nothing in return. 

Instead, he says, “You're persistent.” It’s half-hearted and he doesn’t really mean it, but Annette’s cheeks puff up anyway. 

“Oh, Felix! You’re evil,” huffs Annette, but she never stays mad at him for long, turning her attention back to her food. 

“Sylvain is… different,” says Felix, as they sit down on a bench.

Annette nods sagely. “I mean, yeah, isn’t that why you like him?” 

“He’s sufferable.”

“I mean, I’ll admit, he’s an odd choice and definitely not your type but--”

“Wait, Annette,” says Felix. “Do you think that I actually like him? As in romantically?”

She blinks at him, confused. “I mean, don’t you?” asks Annette around a mouthful of food. She’s never been very ladylike, but it’s a breath of fresh air at the end of all things. Normally it would endear Felix. But. 

“ _ What?” _ snaps Felix, eyes immediately narrowing. “Of course I don’t, this entire thing has been a ruse to get people to leave me alone.”

Annette chews at her food thoughtfully for a second and then says, “But you enjoy spending time with him.”

“I’ve made that apparent,” says Felix. “It vexes me.”

“You’ve admired how smart he is.”

“Infuriatingly so, but it’s useful when we study.” Felix pauses. “Don’t tell him that I said that.”

“You spend your free time with him,” says Annette, gesturing at Felix with her crepe. “This is the first time I’ve seen you face-to-face in like a month, but you go out of your way to see him every day.”

At that, Felix starts, mouth snapping shut as he thinks. Annette’s right, he does go out of his way to spend time with Sylvain. And if they can’t meet properly, it’s texting. Sylvain’s usually the one to greet him in the morning with a corny horoscope that neither of them believes, but still laugh about. And Felix is usually the one to say goodnight, even if it isn’t warranted. 

It feels wrong if they don’t share words at least once a day. 

“Annette,” says Felix. 

“Hm?” hums Annette, cheeks bulging around the last bite of her crepe. 

“Am I in love with him?” It’s rhetorical, of course, and dreadful in tone, but Annette answers anyway. 

“Would that be a bad thing?”

“No,” says Felix, mouth parted in awe as though the heavens had just been explained to him. Or, Sylvain explained theoretical warp theory and Felix finally understood it. That’ll never happen, but--

“I love him.” The words come easier than he expects and they fill him with unexpected warmth. He wants more of it. He’s also afraid of it, but if there’s anything that Felix is good at, it’s striking something head-on with force. 

He hasn’t lost a fencing match in nearly three years. 

Annette, blessedly, is quiet for once, just watching him process his feelings. And when he’s done, when Felix comes to his conclusion, she asks, “Do you feel better?”

“Yes,” says Felix, and it’s honest and true, and strangely welcome. He hasn’t felt this good in years. Certainly not since Glenn passed.

“Good,” says Annette, “Now go kiss him.”

Felix’s answer is dumping the rest of his crepe directly into her lap, the loss of his snack well justified. 

#

Because Felix’s life is apparently a romantic comedy, he expects things between him and Sylvain to become awkward. 

It doesn't. In fact, everything is disgustingly normal. They keep their study dates, emphasis on the study part. Sylvain still greets him with his coffee order, and on the few occasions that Felix beats him to the shop, he greets Sylvain with his ridiculous white mocha, extra whip. 

There are a few differences, Felix supposes. 

When Sylvain leans over to help with a math problem, Felix turns to him. They meet eyes more often than not. Felix willingly covers Sylvain’s dinner, which raises an eyebrow because he’s notoriously stingy. 

But, if Felix seems off, Sylvain never mentions it or broaches the topic. It’s aggravating, how easy it is to just keep to the routine. And it’s not that Felix doesn’t want more; ever since his talk with Annette, he finds himself entertaining the idea further. 

He’s done a lot of thinking. Sylvain’s handsome, there isn’t a doubt about it, but that’s not what pulls Felix to him. Sylvain’s smart as a whip and doesn’t mince his words. And yes, he puts walls up and dances about things personal, but Felix does the same. 

And lately, Sylvain’s started to pull those walls down, comfortable in Felix’s presence. 

No one’s ever comfortable around him and Felix is struck by how much it means. Feelings are hard and love is even worse. Felix isn’t quite sure that it’s worth it. 

But, he hasn’t written the idea entirely off.

“Felix?”

Felix blinks. “I, er--”

Sylvain’s mouth tugs slightly downward at one side. Concerned. “Are you okay? You seem distracted.”

“Fencing,” blurts Felix. “The big tourney coming up.”

“You mean the one two weeks ago?”

Okay, so, Felix has been more distracted than he cares to admit. It’s all Sylvain’s fault. “Sylvain, it’s nothing. I’m just tired. School is draining. The usual.”

“Tired,” says Sylvain, unconvinced. He leans back in his chair, arms crossed and watching Felix carefully. Curse Sylvain’s perceptiveness and his ability to look right through people. 

“Look, Sylvain--”

“Felix Fraldarius,” drawls another voice. They both turn to find a familiar face framed by bleach blonde hair and twirling a lock around her fingers. There’s the snap of gum in her mouth as she chews open-mouthed and unflattering. 

Immediately, Sylvain is on the defensive. “Hey--”

“Hold it, golden boy,” says the girl, “I know you aren’t really dating. Heard it one day after you grabbed a bite to eat.”

Sylvain’s face darkens. “Have you been following us?”

The girl makes a face at the accusation. “Ugh, as if. It was a coincidence, I swear, but what a wonderful one. Means that I’ve got a chance.”

Felix immediately bites back, hackles raised. “I already had little interest, but as of right now, there’s not even a remote possibility of you having a chance.”

“Is it really so hard to just give it a go? You might even like me.” She bats her eyes in a pathetic attempt to appeal to him, but all Felix can think of his tanned skin dotted with freckles and sun-kissed auburn hair.

“Doubtful,” says Felix, dryly. 

It takes only a second for her features to change dramatically, from coy and shy to contemptuous and sneering. “I wonder why I even bothered,” says the girl, before nodding to Sylvain. “Clearly your taste isn’t as good as I would have thought. Haven’t you heard the rumors about him?”

Yes, ad nauseum. From friends, the general public, even Sylvain himself. His problems with women and dating, and commitment issues. His brother and father, and the pressure of family legacy. At first, from those around them who’d heard of their dating, who’d seen them hanging out. People who felt it their duty to warn Felix. 

And eventually, Sylvain himself who’s recently opened up about the heavy baggage that he carries around, shouldering it without much of a complaint. If anything, Sylvain’s the one looking out for others. 

So yes, Sylvain doesn’t have a stellar reputation, but there’s a lot more to a person than what’s seen on the surface. A lesson that Felix has spent the last half-year learning quite unwillingly. 

“Do you think yourself superior?” asks Felix, eyes narrowing at her. “You have no concept of personal space, nor do you seem to comprehend the words ‘no’ and ‘not interested’. Sylvain could murder someone in cold blood and still have twice the worth that you hold.”

“It’s a wonder, why you would even consider him,” scoffs the girl. 

“Obviously it’s because I love him and despite the terrible things the lot of you gossip about, he makes me perfectly happy.” 

The table goes quiet, both the girl and Sylvain staring at him. Likely, for different reasons. Felix didn’t mean to say it so plainly, but he’s never been good at pulling his punches, even when it comes to verbal lashings. 

Besides, she brought it upon herself.

And against all odds, Felix feels wholly and utterly satisfied, not a moment of regret at his confession. He takes a sip of his coffee, fingers curled around his mug tenderly, meeting her gaze head-on. 

“You should leave,” says Sylvain, before the girl can even respond. She opens her mouth to retort, but stops when Sylvain smiles at her. Only it isn’t a smile, it’s a nasty-looking smirk, more like a wolf that’s about to pounce its prey. 

Wisely, she backs off, huffing in annoyance as she turns and leaves. 

And then there are two, sitting at a table in silence. Felix is oddly comfortable, sipping at his drink while Sylvain’s mouth opens and closes. Thinking about what he’s going to say. Felix supposes that he’s opened the inevitable can of worms. 

“So,” starts Sylvain, “correct me if I’m wrong, but when you said that you love me, it sounded pretty genuine.”

Felix scoffs, he can’t help it. “I always mean the things that I say.”

He expects Sylvain to bolt, to run away, to want nothing to do with this. Instead, Sylvain smiles, small and real, regarding Felix with a kind of warmth that immediately sets him on high alert. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” asks Felix, testily. But Sylvain only chuckles, soft at first and then louder. “Really Sylvain? You’re  _ laughing? _ Right now?”

“Sorry,” says Sylvain, “It’s not actually funny-- okay, that’s a lie, it’s hilarious.”

Felix frowns, sneering defensively. “Is the idea of me loving someone, least of all you, so entertaining?”

“No, that’s not it.”

“Then what is it?” demands Felix, exasperated. Sylvain’s not one to beat around the bush, but he can’t seem to find his words, too busy being amused by Felix’s feelings, to his utter embarrassment. 

“It’s because I love you too.”

Felix’s mouth falls open because that’s the last thing he expects Sylvain to say. He doesn’t answer, gaping openly at Sylvain, floundering for an explanation. Eventually, Sylvain finds himself, clearing his throat slightly. 

Sylvain looks to Felix’s face and then his gaze drops to where his hand rests on the table. Considering. Felix really hopes that he’s not planning on taking it, but Sylvain does, fingers tugging at his palm gently. 

Felix lets it happen, settling on the explanation that he’s just not like himself at the moment. 

“Felix,” says Sylvain, this time quieter and more serious. He thumbs at Felix’s knuckles, the touch soft and hesitant. “I’ll admit, I’m a little bit relieved.”

“I’m annoyed,” says Felix. “I’ve been annoyed since the moment I realized it because all I’ve been able to do is think of you. It’s infuriating in the worst of ways.”

There’s a moment that passes as they watch each other, Sylvain’s hand practically burning around Felix’s. And then, Sylvain says, “Felix, can I kiss you?”

Yes, Felix thinks. It’s such a foreign feeling that he nearly pulls away but he doesn’t. He’s determined to indulge. It’s about time he’s enjoyed something in his life. 

So, what he says instead is, “If you must,” the words clipped but his usual crustiness softer than normal. It makes Sylvain smile at him again, looking at Felix like he can see right through him. 

Sylvain leans forward smoothly, cupping Felix’s jaw in his other hand. He’s still looking at him, like he’s some sort of treasure, paused right before Felix’s mouth. And that makes Felix impatient.

Felix is the one to close the distance, sealing their lips together like a promise. Sylvain’s mouth is soft under his, but he responds eagerly, his han moving to the back of his neck. Felix has never really put stock into the whole  _ sparks flew and things were felt  _ nonsense. Turns out that he’d been wrong and that kissing is kind of everything. All he can think of is Sylvain’s presence and the solid weight of him as he leans in. 

Sylvain licks into the kiss, but only just barely, coaxing a tad more than just a mild response from Felix. And Felix can feel his skin burning bright red with strain, or embarrassment, or maybe just the idea that they’re doing this in public. 

He doesn’t care, Felix wants more, fingers curling into Sylvain’s shirt and tugging slightly. 

Eventually, they part because breathing is necessary and even Felix requires air. Regrettably. He wants to go back in, to kiss Sylvain again, just one more time before he gains his senses back and thinks better of it.

But first.

“You know, I’ll kill you if you hurt me,” says Felix, fingers tightening their grip around Sylvain’s shirt.

Sylvain laughs, leaning close to Felix's ear and pressing a soft kiss there. “I know. But that’s a chance I’m willing to take.”

**Author's Note:**

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